Falling
by jae-vous
Summary: Her feet leave the ground, and the sudden rush of gravity pulses through her body before everything fades to black.


_Do people still read these stories?_

_Disclaimer: I love being on Spring break._

**_jae_**

* * *

_"McGee, where the hell are we going?"_

Tony's breath heaves in their ears; over static and the sound of her own, heavy panting. Behind them, metal doors fly open and resound across the warehouse rooftop. Picking up speed, Ziva bursts past Tony as they fly around several shipping containers and hears her partner groan from behind her.

"We are running out of rooftop, Tim." She shouts, looking quickly over her shoulder to see their three tails gaining on them. One of the men reaches for his waist, and her own hand drops to the loaded weapon at her side.

Furious typing echoes in their ears as they weave between crates. "I'm trying," Tim says panicked, just as the first shot cracks across the rooftop and echoes loudly from around them.

Ziva twists while Tony flies past her; taking aim and shooting three consecutive rounds, then turning around once again to catch up with her partner. She smirks as she hears one of them cry out and their gun clatter to the ground, his body following a second later.

"_McGee_!"

More gunfire rings out from behind them. As Ziva falls into step beside Tony, he reaches for her free hand and grabs her, pulling her with him behind a storage shed.

They stumble, falling on top of one another, and there's a second there with hands and breathes mingle dangerously together. But the sound of gunfire grows louder, and Ziva quickly untangles herself from Tony, using her hands on his shoulders to push herself up. Tony's hands guide her off him and he heaves himself off the ground, straightening up behind Ziva. She fires off rounds while ducking around the corner, but she can't look for too long and he watches her frustration quickly build.

"I do not have a clear shot." She grits out, throwing her back against the wall as another storm of bullets hail from behind their cover. McGee's rushed voice fills their ears.

"Guys, it says you're right on top of it."

The partners whip their heads toward each other, then scan their eyes around the rooftop. Nodding toward Ziva, Tony takes a step out into the open area of the rooftop, and Ziva gives him a hard nod in return, throwing herself around the corner to fire off more shots to cover him.

"There's nothing here, Tim." Tony growls in their ears. Ziva keeps an eye on his back out of the corner of her eye; keeping the other eye on their pursuers.

"How far off the ground are we?" Ziva's voice takes on a slightly panicked edge, and that catches Tony's attention. He turns around and sees Ziva hold up her weapon, discharging an empty cartridge.

Tony steps toward a raised concrete wall that blocks a unobtrussive skylight. His voice is hard in her ear.

"I'm not Jason Bourne-ing it again. That was the deal last time: no more jumping."

Ziva aims at one of the men's shoulder, hissing a curse of irritation when the bullet lodges in a crate behind him instead.

"Who is Jason Bourne?"

McGee's typing doesn't pause. "The protagonist from a series of novels that were adapted into a–"

"_Jesus_, Ziva." Tony groans, cutting him off. "I lent you the movie two years ago. Watch it already."

Ziva opens her mouth to speak, but then Tony's yell startles her.

"Ziva, look out!"

She turns around just in time to see one of the men lunging toward her. She narrowly misses his outstretched arm, and his hand curls around empty air as she drops low to sweep her leg under his.

Tony's half-way toward her when the thug falls. She kicks the fallen gun out from his reach, causing it to skid along the rooftop toward Tony's feet. She runs toward him, and he grabs the gun before turning with her toward the edge of the rooftop.

"Guys, what's happening?" McGee's voice fills their ears, but anything he says next is drowned out by the return of more gunfire. Tony reaches for her to roughly shove her body in front of his, and in the next seconds that follow her brain registers the following things:

The gunfire, a soft sound of surprise from Tony, the blurred color of red, and Tony's weight pulling her as he stumbles backward.

Her feet leave the ground, and the sudden rush of gravity pulses through her body before everything fades to black.

* * *

The sound of gunfire had long since died, silence taking its place.

But the silence only unnerves her.

The fall caused their earbuds to dislodge, and McGee's voice is no longer in their heads as she struggles to to crawl off Tony. She knows her partner desperately needs attention, but she carefully conducts a quick evaluation of herself; testing first her legs, her arms, then rotating her neck and rolling on to her side. When only a dull, answering pain responds to the movement, she scrambles on to all fours and crawls back towards Tony's unmoving form.

Ziva knows he's breathing; she felt his chest rising and falling when she was lying against him. Her biggest concern for the moment though is the red that stains her own shirt and hands; because the blood, she knows, is not her own.

* * *

His shirt ripped in the fall, so she feels a little less guilty when she begins tearing the fabric into long, thin strips. She says a silent apology as it rips seamlessly without any wrinkles, indicating its designer origins. Tony will mourn later, she is sure. But her current priority is to bandage the gunshot wound that continues to bleed out on his side.

The task takes her longer than normal with shaking hands and panicked adrenaline shooting through her body.

* * *

When she's secured his side and checked his pulse, Ziva does a quick search in the darkened room for either of their earbuds along the debris and broken glass.

She sustains several cuts to her hands until she finally uncovers one of the devices several feet from where they crashed and landed. She nearly drops it again when she tries to shove it into her ear with shaking fingers.

"Are you there? Tim?" Ziva's voice trembles. It echoes loudly around her in the empty space and it makes her acutely aware of how silent Tony is.

"Ziva!" His relieved voice cries out. She hears him call for Gibbs' attention, and the older man's voice fills her head seconds later.

"Talk to me, Ziver." She hears relief flood his gruff tone. Rushing back over to Tony, she crouches over him to resume her vigil.

"Tony's been hit, Gibbs." She doesn't bother to try to keep her voice steady, doesn't register the hysteria that's now replacing her momentarily relief. "It's a graze, but he's bleeding. We fell through the rooftop. We never left the rooftop–" Ziva cuts off with a choked sob, reaching her hand out to trace the gashes over Tony's face.

"Ziva," Gibbs voice washes over her, like the calm before a storm. The familiar gruff voice turns soothing. "You're alright. _You're alright_."

He listens for her breathing to calm down, waits for her to control her panic and come to her senses. When he thinks she's able to speak, his tone comes more sternly.

"Tell me what we're looking at."

Ziva takes another, deep breath, then drops her eyes to sweep Tony's body. "He pulled me with him as he was shot. I landed on top of him–" She glances up toward the shattered skylight, where the sun sits in the sky just out of her view. "I woke up perhaps thirty minutes ago. He has still not opened his eyes."

Gibbs silence continues. She swallows audibly, curling her fingers around Tony's.

"How long have we been down here?" She asks.

Gibbs covers a mumbled curse in her ear.

"Roughly two hours."

* * *

Ziva thinks if she catalogs his injuries one more time, she may very well go insane.

She takes inventory of every injury with her eyes; fearing what could have happened to his back after the shock of the fall to his spine.

When her eyes sweep over his twisted leg, she sees blood that hadn't been there the other times she checked him over.

Reaching out to move his pant-leg, she pulls back bloody fingers that glisten in the dim light shining high above them. When she returns her touch to the wound, Tony's eyes fly open and his hand shoots out to tighten around her wrist.

* * *

She's afraid of touching him.

The strangled cry he made when she gazed the embedded glass still echoes in her ears. It grew with volume as she picked the glass from the area.

Tony's grip hasn't left her wrist though, even when she immediately tried to jerk her hand away from his leg after finishing.

"Tim, where are you?" She presses out, not unkindly, but firm as the sound of Tony's labored breathing makes her jaw tighten.

"We're almost there, Ziva. I'm going to lose you in a few seconds when I change frequencies. "

Ziva sighs in relief, and Tony's fingers tighten around her wrist.

"Tell 'em," he hisses, trying to sit up. Ziva pushes him back down gently with her free hand. "That next time, it's his turn to fall off a roof."

Ziva glares at him, while McGee's voice protests in her ear and her partner starts laying into the other man about getting his hands dirty.

"Enough!" Ziva yells exasperated, and she hears McGee's final mutter of _technically, it was through the roof,_ before ripping the earbud out of her ear.

Though she's calmed considerably ever since Tony opened his eyes and moved each of his fingers and toes respectively, the blood loss and time that has passed for her partner is heavy on her mind and makes it difficult for her to remain stoic in his presence.

Tony reads the anxiety clear on her face, and he takes drops his grip from her wrist to her hand to tangle their fingers together.

"Hey," she turns down to look at their hands, then to him. He manages a weak smile, tugging her hand up to rest on his chest. "I'm fine."

Ziva's eyes tighten as they sweep over his face. She doesn't smile back, but raises her head so her eyes look up toward the roof. He knows she's trying to stop any tears from falling.

"Ziva," he tries again, and is relieved when her gaze falls back to his, a little more clearer. He tries to go for humor.

"If you want, I can demonstrate that I have the use of all my extremities." He arches his eyebrows teasingly, and it brings an involuntarily laugh from her throat.

She shakes her head, a low chuckle coming from her chest as her face softens, looking him over.

"I am afraid you will not be able to give that kind of demonstration for some time." Her free hand brushes hesitantly over his side, but he doesn't wince at the contact. Instead, he tugs her closer. Ziva resists at first, but gives in to his weak pull and settles carefully beside him.

His eyes close as she helps him rest his head in her lap, sighing contentedly while her fingers brush through his hair.

"I'm sorry."

Ziva's hand pauses in his hair. She falls into a pensive silence.

"I wish you would stop trying to be Jake Bourne." She sighs tiredly.

Tony twists his head under her palm in agitation, causing her to chuckle and resume her gentle strokes.

"_Jason_," He mumbles with a small groan. "_Jason_ Bourne."

Ziva makes an impatient noise in response, while his groan turns into a moan as she scratches her nails over his scalp.

"Whatever." She says dismissively, but softening her voice. "I do not need you throwing yourself into harms away for me."

Tony coughs, trying to gain control of his labored breathing. "But that's how Bourne gets the girl."

He cracks open an eye, looking up at her with a teasing smile and her face slowly melts into an affectionate expression.

Leaning down to press her lips to his cheek, she brushes her thumb over the spot with a smirk.

"Bourne does not have to fall through roofs to get the girl's attention."

The sounds of people moving through the warehouse echoes through the walls and into their ears. Ziva looks around and up, then back down to Tony's face. She grins widely.

"Besides, he already has the girl."

* * *

The private room is lit with a single, lone light glowing by the occupied hospital bed. Empty cartons litter the table between the bed and a standard, fold-up chair pulled up before it. Their laughter echoes down the hallway as she makes her way toward the room's door frame. She leans against it smiling for a moment, watching the two men while their eyes are trained on the glowing television in the corner of the room. When the screen fades into a commercial, she knocks against the door frame, and their conversation comes to an end as they glance up at the sound.

Ziva waves at them and enters the room, a duffle bag slung over her shoulder and wearing clean, non-bloodstained clothes.

"I guess that's my cue." McGee pushes back from the table, the metal chair scraping against the floor's laminate. Tony's eyes find hers behind the agent's back, a painless smile stretching over his face. She gives him a warm nod.

"How is he feeling, Tim?" She comes over to help him clear the table, tossing cartons into the trashbin he holds out.

"Doctor's said he should be fine," McGee shrugs, putting down the trashbin and moving the table back against the wall. "They've got him on mild painkillers for now," he twirls a finger beside his head, sharing a smile with her. "He hasn't gotten loopy yet."

Ziva's grin widens as Tony's affronted tone exclaims, "_Hey!"_

Pulling his jacket on, McGee reaches out a hand to rest on her shoulder. "How're you feeling?"

Ziva raises and drops her shoulders, her face dismissive of his concern.

"The doctors cleared me two hours ago," she reassures him, then sweeps her hand over her body. "I wanted to go home and change, grab a few things."

McGee's hand tightens on her arm, but he nods back to her. "I'm glad you're okay, Ziva."

The guilt she saw on him earlier is still fresh in his eyes. Leaning forward, Ziva embraces him in a hug and brushes a chaste kiss against his cheek.

"Thank you, Tim." She murmurs gratefully, holding his gaze until the tightness around his eyes weakens.

Pulling out of her embrace, his expression becomes more joking, and he points a thumb behind his back.

"Good luck." He tells her, causing her to laugh. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

He takes his leave then, and Ziva continues to chuckle as she approaches Tony's bed.

He had fallen uncharacteristically silent, but his eyes are welcoming and clear when she hovers over him in bed.

"Here to keep me company?"

Ziva smiles, shrugging out of her jacket and throwing it on to the abandoned chair. She drops the duffel bag from her shoulder to the floor, and gives him a teasing look.

"Something like that."

He watches her as she bends down to rummage through the duffel bag, retrieving what he recognizes as his DVD player, and a DVD case. "How about a movie?"

Tony gives her an adoring grin, reaching out to grab her arm and pull her next to him on the bed.

"That's the hottest thing you've ever said to me, _Sweetcheeks_."

Ziva laughs as he carefully shuffles to the side, curling herself comfortably against him. His head falls to her shoulder as she sets up the DVD player in her lap, and allows him to turn on the movie while she reaches for the controller to shut the television off.

"What're we watching?"

She sighs contentedly as his hand falls from the DVD player to rub up and down her thigh. Turning her face toward his, she leans in to capture his lips in a deep, drugging kiss.

"Something about a Jason Bourne." She pulls away, and his reverberating laughter against her body grounds her once again.

* * *

Falling wasn't so bad.

So long as they were falling for each other.


End file.
